


The Breakers of Kalachakra

by ShiningTimeStories



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiningTimeStories/pseuds/ShiningTimeStories
Summary: The fragile new world created by Edelgard continues to suffer. Ancient secrets are reaching a boiling point and threatening to tear apart an already divided nation. Edelgard and Hubert struggle to stay their course as the path distorts beneath their feet.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Constance von Nuvelle, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Lysithea von Ordelia, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**1199 - Ethereal Moon**

**Franciscus**

“It’s an ambitious idea Franciscus, but I cannot say I see a future in it. Not with the bitch Emperor keeping us all firmly under her boot. Pardon my language.” 

Franciscus looked on with a neutral expression, but tutted disapprovingly. “Now, now my good sir. Using derogatory terms towards the Emperor is still considered slander, and punishable to the full extent of her wrath.” He looked around at the gathering of people, about a dozen men and women, who suddenly looked deeply uncomfortable, and broke into deep, rich laughter. “Until of course we can put down that rabid dog,” he chuckled darkly.

The group instantly relaxed, some tittering with nervous laughter and others with deep bellowing guffaws. 

“However, I do realize this is a lofty goal. I am merely here to help spread the word of the new way. I’ve been travelling across Fódlan and beyond for many years, this is not a unique point of view. Many survivors of the last great war are still struggling, and this is considering that we are now over ten years out from the last major conflict! People like us lost everything in the war, it didn’t matter what side we fought on. And at the center of it we have a corrupt Emperor and her court of rabid dogs. The illness that has continued to ravage Fódlan perpetuates, and if we do not amputate the infected limb I fear our land will soon be rotten to its core.” 

Franciscus surveyed the room again, and this time found nervous faces looking back at him. This was expected; if talk of bitch Emperors was slander, this was downright treason. People were generally receptive to opening up to a sympathetic stranger with a willing ear, but openly talking of overthrowing a government, one that wielded unilateral power across the land, was punishable by death. He understood their apprehension, but this was not his first audience. Far from it. 

He softened his tone. “I understand your reluctance to be a part of this movement, even covertly, and I assure you that my associates and I want no one to suffer further. We merely want to spread the word to higher ranking commoners in societies across Fódlan. You owe us nothing, but we greatly appreciate your listening to us.” 

He began to gather up his pamphlets and parchments, when a younger voice in the crowd piped up. “Well, sir, I’m not saying we don’t appreciate your coming to us, and identifying us as commoners-of-influence as you say, but I am asking what we can do about it. We’re not nobles, not even low ranking ones. Needless to say we don’t have crests. We have no say in local governance.” 

Franciscus looked up, with hope beaming on his face to suggest that this was the first time someone had ever made such a suggestion to him. 

“When the Emperor came to power one of her biggest ideals was seeing competent and worthy people take positions of power. To do away with the crest system and to ensure people from all walks of life had an equal chance in life. Somewhere along the lines that fell away, and unfortunately the roots of the old system ran much deeper than some superficial words could ever hope to dismantle. One thing that never changed is that commoners like us are still competent. We still have the ability to make governance decisions and influence society. I’m not saying you have to do anything, yet, but all I ask is that you take my words to heart. The healers, merchants, the shopkeepers, the smiths and tradespeople, you are the ones who keep the heart of a nation beating. One day, there may come a time to initiate a new order, and I trust that you are up for the challenge. For now, I will say that we need you to keep bettering society, in your own unique way.”

Faces relaxed and the group was placated. The remainder of the meeting was easy, they broke down into friendly chatter and the group expressed a collective hope that they hadn’t previously carried. Like many groups before them, they invited him for a drink at the local tavern, a toast to their new friendship. As always, he went along for one drink, just one, before excusing himself to go home to his family. 

This was just one small town of Fódlan, and it was located inside Bovamas territory. This town carried little weight in its own territory, let alone the greater world, but that’s what made these outings interesting. One small town could do very little on its own, but spread the seeds of dissonance to many within a territory and they all came to the same conclusion. 

That the system that oversaw them was unjust, and they had suffered enough. 

Franciscus did not feel like he was interrupting the natural order, because he assumed they would break sooner or later without his help, but a little nudge put them in the right direction. And certainly they needed a direction, it would help with the eventual fall out of the ruling class. 

After circling the wrong block, just in case, he walked past his current residence and made an abrupt turn down an alleyway, a block down further from his destination. He never went through his front door, he never gave any indication whatsoever where he lived. Despite the trust exercise he frequently played by speaking openly of treason amongst downcast strangers, he could not put any trust in not being followed. It had happened, once or twice along his journeys, and attempts on his life had been made. Fortunately they were sloppy, and the assailants were suitably disposed. He, however, could not afford to be sloppy, it wasn’t something he could ever accept from anyone in his circle, least of all himself. 

He waited, holding his breath for any signs of followers. He detected no footsteps, and no magical reverberations, and still waited a moment longer. After a few more silent moments had passed he was satisfied. The street was deserted and he wasted no time in backtracking to the alleyway adjacent to the apartment he currently resided. He felt his magical signature beckoning him and passed effortlessly through a warded passage, carefully disguised as a sooty brick wall. 

“Eleonore?” he called as he entered the sitting room. “The clock strikes midnight in Enbarr,” he recited. 

“And so my watch begins.” A bored sounding voice responded. 

“That’s my good lady. How was your evening?” he asked warmly, walking to the armchair the small girl had settled herself into. “Reading about faith magic are we?” 

“It was the same as usual, wondering when you’d be back,” Eleonore responded. She was small for her age of thirteen, and delicate in a way that made Franciscus fear for her in ways he could barely comprehend. He was amused at how she looked both so similar and yet so different to both her parents. Her bronze eyes glittered with a steely intelligence and her hair was a deep, rich brown that fell around her in wavy curtains. 

“I returned no later than I said I would, and I’m happy to help you go through the fundamentals of magic if you wish. If you think it will help quell your boredom.” 

She gave a sigh and heaved the tome out of her lap. “It’s not the same,” she huffed. 

He gave her a small, rueful smile. “I know, my good lady.” 

“Stop calling me that!” she fussed at him. He assumed that she had been waiting for him to come home before eating, so Franciscus decided he better procure some food before irritating her further than he already had. He got up and walked towards the small kitchen, which contained only a pantry and an ice box. 

“We’re not nobles!” He heard her call from the sitting area.

“As that may be, you will always be my lady,” he responded gently. 

He rummaged through the pantry, wrinkling his nose in disappointment. He had been so busy lately that he hadn’t been able to restock properly. Even the ice in the icebox was running low. He hadn’t bought any new ice since they were last on the road, nearly a month prior, when he had encountered a mage selling the enchanted stuff. Not to mention, the flow of gold had been having some difficulties. He had enough to get by, for a little while, but a top up was needed in the near future. He resigned to some cured meat and hard cheese, as well as the last bit of 'fresh' bread. Franciscus knew he was no cook, and neither was his daughter, but he felt no need to force her to cook for them while he was gone. After all, he was to blame for their unorthodox lifestyle, she didn’t need to be his live-in servant during the childhood years he was already depriving her of. 

He brought the meagre meal to the plain table and she joined him wordlessly, tome back in hand. He appreciated her studious nature, he may have deprived her of a formal education in the life that he lead, but he did help her as much as he dared. On the road where it was more open, and they were less likely to encounter an ambush, he allowed her to practice. She had no interest in melee weapons and lacked the sharp gaze of an archer, which suited him fine because he was very much the same. Magic he understood, and though he could not cast he could suitably coach her. Her aptitude appeared to be in faith, and she was slowly learning the theory of the more advanced spells far beyond her years. 

He always promised her that one day she would be able to practice openly, and had no doubt she would be a successful healer. He intended to keep that promise. 

* * *

**1187 - Great Tree Moon**

**Emperor Edelgard**

It may have come as a surprise to some of her cohorts, but Edelgard truly enjoyed holding court. It was much like battle, though without the bloodshed. Even the best laid plans fell apart in battle when two equally matched opponents met. Opposing commandars effectively tried to outmanoeuvre the other until resources were depleted. Court could be the same at times, diplomacy was a tricky weapon to wield but victories could be just as decisive, if not more than, as those on the battlefield. And these days she much preferred wielding her mind than her axe. 

That’s not to say she loved battle. Standing next to, say, Bernadetta, who openly rejected battle and only participated when necessary, or Dorothea who disliked the idea of war but begrudgingly accepted its purpose, she may have come across to her subjects as a war monger. But she never truly enjoyed the fighting, despite her immense strength and skill. She considered herself well apart from others, like Casper and Ferdinand, who openly enjoyed the thrill of battle. No, she was much more moderate than anyone could have possibly believed her to be.

Her Black Eagles were all valuable members of her council, and they all continued to contribute to her cause greatly, but an early growing pain in holding court involved utilizing their skill sets to the best of their ability. Ferdinand was charismatic and engaging, but court was dry at times and she could always read the increasing boredom on his face. He could be depended on for pressing and engaging matters but less-so for long discussions on reforms that didn’t explicitly pertain to his territories. She considered herself lucky if Linhardt stayed awake throughout the entire session, so she only requested his presence if the subject was faith magic or crests, and even then preferred to have him approach her with his interest. Casper had no attention span and always eventually stopped pretending to pay attention, therefore she preferred to keep him with the entry guard so that he could use his keen sense of justice to root out anyone suspicious. Everyone had their strengths, and she always tried to help them succeed because it ultimately meant helping her cause.

Needless to say she was glad for her personal enjoyment of the process; it meant she didn’t have anything clouding her judgment. Similarly, Hubert was always present, unless she had more important tasks for him to accomplish, and she requested that he help her vet and select members for suitability for the tasks at hand. 

Currently, they were hosting delegates from Almyra. This had, initially at the very least, been of great interest to the council. Hubert in particular had not anticipated the request, which was unusual as he usually had access to anything noteworthy well before anyone else. Though at times she suspected that he held onto news for much longer than he let on before sharing it with her, she did not feel it was the case this time. There were times where she thought that she could see the glimmer of something unsaid in his eyes, but she had no cause to push every matter belonging to her highest intelligence officer. As long as he continued to share everything valuable in a timely manner she did not care to know what minor strings he was pulling elsewhere. He had proved time and time again that he could be trusted to work in the shadows and bend them to his will, because his will was heavily based on what he assumed was her will. And he was rarely, if ever, incorrect in his assumptions. 

However, he never allowed her to find out something important indirectly, which is why she suspected he was as blindsided as she was by this meeting. 

At present, Hubert was sitting to her right, with his usual perfect posture and quill poised to paper. She felt relieved that she had someone else so dependable in council. His dark hair juxtaposed with gaunt, pale features, and when combined with his unwavering cold gaze he was often an unnerving sight to those who didn’t know him. Though he scarcely wrote anything down, any time he heard something of use he quickly scratched it down, which usually inspired a nervous glance from someone in the room. Today, he had yet to write anything down, and Edelgard took it as a sign of disregard for these guests. She valued his input, and his body language was often a silent but accurate indicator of how to treat delegates. That was part of the reason they worked so well together, they could communicate silently and quickly without alerting anyone else that they had already come to a decision or agreement.

While she didn’t disagree with his assessment today, she was slightly more invested than he was. Visits from outside of Fódlan were still rare, but since ascending as emperor she had entertained many more than she believed her father had during his reign. These delegates consisted of an envoy who claimed to be a cousin of the current king of Almyra, and two other lesser nobles. There was considerable talk of expanding trade, which was not unwelcome as Almyra was both vast and bountiful, but she suspected they may be building up to a greater ask. 

“My Lord father is in control of trade, and his judgment is heavily favoured by my cousin, the King,” the leader said in a way that reminded her of several nobles she had met in her travels. Nobles that loved to drop connections, as if it was their very lifeblood. It did nothing to impress her one way or the other, but it did amuse her. 

“And what does your Lord father think of my prior encounters with the King’s son?” she interjected, voice even yet probing. 

Hubert released a tiny huff of laughter that only she could hear. 

The noble, Fareed Amin, smiled in a way that could only be described as coyly. He was handsome, with thick chestnut hair that cascaded in waves to the nape of his neck, tanned skin and piercing blue eyes. He was attractive and personable, but kept his objectives well masked. 

“Well, my father’s thoughts are less important than the King’s, and the King is willing to put aside any past disagreements. Consequently, this is something that benefits my father currently so he feels that past disagreements are better left in the past.”

“And what would the King of Almyra want out of this parley? I imagine you’re not just here to wax poetic at me of the benefits of a trade agreement with Almyra.” 

That smile again. It held back everything and gave away nothing. No feelings, no motives. “Why, Your Majesty, you are as astute as they say. Yes, I am not here to only present the terms of a trade agreement that benefits Fódlan more than Almyra. I am here to make an offer for your hand in marriage.” 

A bold offer, to be sure. But not the first of its kind. At this point she could no longer count the would-be suitors on both hands and it had long stopped sparking a reaction from her council. Hubert didn’t even move his quill. 

“Marriage in return for an increased trade from Almyra. What would you personally have to gain from this arrangement?” she asked calmly.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, what could I possibly have to lose?” 

That was new. Usually at this point they would be raving about her beauty, her strength, her courage, her dream. Anything of that nature while dancing around the obvious benefit of being the consort to the current ruler of Fódlan. Her dream had not yet been seen to fruition, and Fódlan was still fragile. Therefore, nobles came out of the woodwork to try and sway her and win her hand. To be a consort was a powerful position, and any heirs produced would secure the empire in their name. Or so they thought. 

From beside her, she heard Hubert mutter darkly, “Only your head.” Ferdinand to his other side couldn’t contain his snicker. 

But, this time, Edelgard was more entertained than annoyed at this would-be suitor. “Yes, you would surely enjoy the perks of such an arrangement, I have no doubt. But I also have no doubt that my advisors could come up with many ways in which this would be a poor decision for me to consider. I will leave it to them to provide their viewpoint.”

“Your Majesty, consorting with this man would surely be a detriment to your rule and a risk to your personal safety. The Almyrans came to the aid of, at the time, one of your enemies and fought against your army. They lost, so it’s surely no surprise they’ve come back seeking your favour. Not to mention that the lack of an increased trade deal, or any trade deal at all for that matter, with Almyra wouldn’t devastate Fódlan by any stretch. Simply put, if you reject this offer and Almyra wishes to cease all future aid to Fodlan, the loss would be quite manageable. One benefit however, is that this modest proposal would surely cease to exist,” Hubert said in his usual mocking drawl. 

Amin's smile remained firmly in place, nonplussed by Hubert’s biting words. 

“Thank you for your input Imperial Minister Vestra,” Edelgard said, her eyes never leaving Amin's face, “Lord Amin, I cannot in good faith accept your offer of an improved trade deal. The Empire is amenable to further conversation with Almyran powers at a future date.” 

“Thank you for hearing our humble offer, your Majesty. I understand, truly, and I will relay the message to the King directly.” 

He was escorted out and the council found themselves alone again. 

“Everyone except Duke Aegir and Minister Vestra are dismissed,” she gently commanded and the room was cleared save for the three of them. 

“Well, that was interesting,” she ventured. “What were your thoughts?” 

“Regarding the Almyran King, I can’t imagine why a son of a lesser noble marrying the reigning Emperor of Fódlan would be a suitable trade-off for an increased trade deal,” Ferdinand ventured. 

“Indeed, and this no doubt concerns Claude Von Reigan. Both ourselves and Lord Amin and his party mutually understood what was meant by the King’s son, without having needed to say it aloud. We have to determine where this particular lord stands with Claude and the current reigning King. Claude must have his designs on this,” Hubert conceded. He had not appeared overly concerned during the meeting but his brow was furrowed in thought now that they were alone. “I will have to mobilize my network and resources. This request seemed simple, and yet it came without forewarning. Someone must have taken considerable steps to obscure it from view until it arrived on our desks.” 

“And your network, are they appropriately stationed in and around Almyra? There are still many Leicester loyalists, particularly near Fódlan's Throat. The Gonerils have largely gone underground but remain steadfast supporters of Leicester, and seem to lead the insurgences we see cropping up in that former territory. And yet we cannot ever discern their location to root them out at the source,” Ferdinand countered, leaning in closer to Hubert. 

Hubert’s posture did not move an inch, but his stern eyes bore down on Ferdinand. “Do you presume to instruct me in matters pertaining to my network of Sorcery Engineers?” he asked icily. 

Ferdinand did not back down, though he softened his tone slightly. “No, but I do feel that if you need more resources we should consider lending other Empire support to your network.” 

“Hah! You propose adding those bulky and careless creatures you call knights to my battalions? They’d give away their position before the enemy even started looking for them. By the way, how is Hrym territory fairing with your brave and noble presence overseeing it?” 

Ferdinand frowned deeply, taking the bait. “You know exactly how Hrym territory is doing, do not play coy with me Vestra! And I’ll have you know that the Astral Knights are the greatest warriors in the Empire.” 

“That’s quite enough you two,” Edelgard called sharply. They both lapsed into a tense silence. “Both the matters of imperial intelligence and Hrym territory are high priority and must be dealt with appropriately, of which I have no doubt you are both respectively capable of handling. That said if you wish to have a constructive conversation about either we must make time for it, otherwise infighting is just setting us backwards and we cannot afford to be seen as anything but a united front.” 

“You are correct as always, Your Majesty,” Hubert said while Ferdinand rolled his eyes. “I’ll investigate with my networks and ensure we can cover for any potential intelligence holes.” 

“Good, now I have work to attend to in my private office, and I’ll bid you farewell for now Ferdinand. Hubert, do you have time to walk with me?” 

“Farewell Your Majesty. Hubert.” Ferdinand grudgingly muttered his name as an afterthought before taking his leave. 

“He’ll be fine by tomorrow,” Edelgard offered as they walked side by side in the direction of their private apartments within the imperial palace. 

Hubert chuckled darkly. “I am not worried about Ferdinand Von Aegir’s long-term feelings. He forgets a slight almost as soon as he’s had time to process it.” 

“And you shouldn’t goad him. You’re both overtaxed and under-slept. We all are. I know everyone has a tremendous amount of work on their respective plates and there are a lot of internal and external pressures, but I mean it when I said we don’t need infighting.” 

His mirth was cut short and his face fell into his more usual frown. “Of course Your Majesty. I meant what I said at the end of the meeting, you are absolutely correct. And I apologize for adding to your own plate with our outburst.” 

She waved him off casually. “It’s no matter.” They had reached the entrance to her apartment. “Could I borrow you for a moment? There was one more thing before I retire for the evening.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Of course, how can I be of service?” 

That was his usual go-to when he hadn’t anticipated her request, or when he hadn’t already predicted what she was going to ask of him. They were rare moments, but she always felt like she had won a silent competition when she caught him off guard. 

“Follow me up to my office, if you please.” 

He dutifully followed her up the stairs and across the threshold of her reception room, then through the more private reception room where she entertained guests she was on more familiar terms with, and finally through her ready room and into her very spacious office. Her apartment was quite vast, and though the entrance was a moderate walk from the throne room and up several levels, after walking the length to get her office one found themselves immediately on top of the throne room. The office had a large window that overlooked the central courtyard, one that Hubert despised because of the security risk. She loved it, and refused all of his attempts to persuade her to change it. He had since stopped asking, but she suspected that there was an increased presence of mages under his command that were stationed wherever the window was in plain sight. She never asked, he never told, and she certainly never saw any of his mages, but her hunches were often correct. Nonetheless, if it helped him sleep any easier she was willing to accept it. 

“I realize that I’m a day late, but we never found the time yesterday. Happy birthday Hubert!” she said happily and handed him a daintily wrapped present. 

She never grew tired of shocking him. He carefully accepted the parcel and seemed momentarily stunned. “Your Majesty, you shouldn’t have. I believe I requested that you treat it like any other day?” 

“Oh hush, I will not. That is one request I cannot grant. Now will you grant me the pleasure of watching your expression as you open it?” she asked with feigned offense. 

He gave a gentle laugh and said, “As you command, Your Majesty.”

“It’s an informal meeting, no titles right now.” This was something that she always specified. He would never outright defer to her first name, but always relaxed ever so slightly and called her by name when she indicated the informality. 

He carefully removed the wrapping, leaving the paper in near perfect condition, and his eyebrows rose in surprise as he revealed the book inside. 

“Edelgard,” he said breathlessly, “This issue hasn’t been seen in, dare I say, decades. I never thought I’d lay eyes on it, it was long considered lost due to its limited release and controversy with the former church. I am speechless. Thank you, truly.” 

“You are most welcome. I knew you’d receive it well,” she smiled up at him, enjoying the rare moment where he was open and truly just her friend, no titles between them. 

“You have exquisite sense for gift giving, I look forward to reading this formerly lost treasure,” he said almost reverently, tucking it carefully under his arm, “Though I am loath to say that it will have to wait until my return.” 

“Oh? Has something from the field called your attention?” 

“Yes, Grand Marshal Byleth reported an intriguing source of potential intelligence. It might be nothing, but it could be something. I suspect it’s the former, but I would much rather be on hand to take control of the situation if it’s anything noteworthy.” 

She frowned slightly, looking out her window. “Let’s hope this trip yields something fruitful, do report back.” 

“I will upon my immediate return, and for your continued security in my absence I have scheduled false meetings with others who are aware of my travel plans but would keep such information in the highest confidence. No one should have reason to believe I am anywhere but Enbarr,” he explained dutifully, “And you have my full assurance that the household will continue to run without issue. I’ve put my best staff on the schedule.” 

“Well, your presence will be missed, and I look forward to your safe return. And you will return safely,” she said sternly. 

He smiled. “As you command it.” 

* * *

**1187 - Great Tree Moon**

**Minister of the Imperial Household Hubert Von Vestra**

He was awake in the earliest morning hours and on the road before twilight. Unlike traditional knights who exclusively rode on horseback or wyvern, and in highly obvious fashion and numbers, his mages were silent and scarcely gave an opportunity to be spotted. They warped from checkpoint to checkpoint, and only mounted horses for a short premeditated distance when they needed to allow their mana to restore. They never used the same route more than twice a year, which were selected at random and only known to a select few. Horses were carefully and discretely planted for use and housed immediately afterwards by allies along the ground. 

The current investigation involved Those Who Slither in the Dark, namely what was left of them. Thales, formerly having stolen and worn the face of Volkhard Von Arundel, had been slain within a year of the Empire winning the war. Hubert had correctly surmised the location of Shambhala after the javelins of light descended on Arianrhod by triangulating on the coordinates. Thales had made his last stand there, and, after a long and difficult battle, lost his life. They ensured his body was destroyed, with no hope of Agarthan magic being able to restore or reanimate him. 

Shambhala was largely left in ruin in the aftermath of the battle. Hubert suspected that there was a dead hand system in place to destroy the facility in the event of the defeat of the upper echelon. Which appeared to have been a correct assumption as they had been largely unable to collect anything of interest after Thales’ had fallen. The underground city was in ruin, and scarcely anything remained. Hubert also suspected that the destruction of Thales and Shambhala was not the end of TWSITD. Unfortunately, his suspicions in that regard continually appeared to be coming true, at least in part. It had started with reports of incidents in Hrym involving short lived but horrific uprisings with unfamiliar and strange dark mages. He had worked tirelessly with Ferdinand to determine the source and prevent further attacks. Ultimately, further investigation had revealed hidden tunnels and passageways that led back to Shambhala, and they appeared to had been recently used. It appeared that contingencies had been in place for TWSITD members to escape, and despite the heavy losses suffered by their side they were not giving up without a fight. 

Hubert’s greatest amount of resources went into preventing TWSITD from remobilizing, and preventing future uprisings. It did disrupt his routine operations, and he was loath to admit that Ferdinand had been partially correct in his assessment during court. Grand Marshal Eisner, also personally styled as the Blade of the Emperor by Edelgard herself, was the head of the Empire’s forces. She and her most trustworthy battalions had spent the last several moons working their way through the former Kingdom, preventing skirmishes and rebellions on that front, but also covertly spent a considerable amount of effort rooting out TWSITD holdouts. 

The former Leicester Alliance was much less infiltrated than the other two regions, and they instead focused on prevention instead of the more reactive approach in Adrestia and the former Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. 

Today Hubert and the smallest guard he could discretely travel with were meeting up with the Grand Marshal’s forces in the Kingdom. Normally missions to quell uprisings did not need his oversight. But something had been brought to his attention recently that commanded his presence.  A few days ago, a battalion under Byleth’s command had successfuly brought down a particularly well-defended Agarthan holdout. She had sent immediate word to him, indicating that the real victory came in the form of a hostage who was willing to talk. They had him held under the highest level of security and were awaiting further instruction from Enbarr. 

Hubert never trusted an informant who came willingly. At best, they were negotiating a better personal outcome, and at worst were aiming on undermining and sabotaging the goals of the empire. However, an Agarthan turning and willing to provide intelligence was unprecedented. Due to the potential of the high possibility of harm, Hubert had decided that this required his immediate attention. 

His small group moved exceedingly fast and warped through the western section of Fódlan at almost unheard of speeds. This method of travel was efficient but not sustainable. They were fortunate that Byleth was not so far away that they required much recovery. They managed to liaise with her forces just after noon, in former Gaspard territory. 

Hubert ordered his guard to take rest and to replenish their mana. He allowed himself no respite and immediately requested to be taken to the Grand Marshal. He was led into her tent at the center of the camp, ducking slightly to avoid the top of the door flap. She looked up from the map she had been pouring over as he entered, and gave him her usual retiring smile. 

“Hello Hubert, good to see you again,” she greeted him in her impassive manner. He was immediately put at ease, as he found himself often assessing his allies for any sign of compromise. Byleth’s apparent simplicity might be her greatest asset. It would be difficult for anyone to impersonate someone who managed such a detached personality, particularly forany of the Agarthans who seemed to exclusively operate on passionate revenge. 

“And you, Grand Marshal. Thank you for your recent report. You were correct, this was highly interesting.” 

“I suspected it would be. I’d offer you a place to rest but I trust that you are eager to speak to the informant?” 

“You know me well. And before I forget, the Emperor sends her regards,” he said with a grateful smile. 

“Of course. I trust the Emperor is well? I’ve received her latest correspondence, it sounds like the court is continuing to try her patience. And the infighting continues to be an irritant,” she suggested, raising one eyebrow. 

He chuckled. “She is well, and there are always irritants in court. Particularly one Ferdinand Von Aegir.” 

“I wasn’t asking about your personal irritants, but I can understand your point of view.” She gave him the closest expression to a smirk that he would expect out of her. She rose from her makeshift camp desk. “Please follow me.” 

They strode through the camp and she beckoned two of her personal guard to follow. He recognized them as former Jeralt’s Mercenaries. “We’ve been holding him with physical and magical restraints,” she said as she dropped her voice to a whisper, “He does not speak much, just indicates that he has information. Also, he was injured in the fight, and is weak. But we’ve stabilized him as best we can. I don’t anticipate he will survive for very long.” 

They reached a discrete but well guarded tent at the middle-back section of camp. Hubert’s discerning gaze could just identify that there were snipers posted carefully around the camp, particularly around this tent, but they weren’t overly obvious unless someone was looking. Byleth instructed the guards to flank the door, and she led Hubert inside. Hubert could feel the tingle of a silence spell, and though it was not directed at him he could feel its strength suppressing the edges of his own magic. It was stronger than was needed for one person, but no chances should be taken here. The man was also heavily shackled, and chains had his limbs pinned down to spikes in the ground. He could sit and lie down, but that was about the extent of his movement.

The man was nondescript. Even Hubert had rarely seen the true faces of most Agarthans, but the ones he had seen up close had all been garish and flamboyant. Inhuman even at times. This man had sandy brown hair, and while he was pale, he did not possess the grey tinged skin that his countrymen had. It was almost concerning how normal he appeared, because it meant he could easily blend into a crowd. Hubert wondered if this was his real face, or one he had already stolen to wear. 

“You have information?” Hubert asked coldly. 

The man stirred and weakly lolled his head to the side. 

“For the Emperor, yes,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Byleth allowed Hubert time and space to work. Hubert quickly learned that the informant was insistent on only speaking to the Emperor directly. It was a bold assertion. Hubert was quite clear that seeing the Emperor would not be possible, particularly in the absence of information. Even after engaging some of his more intimidating tactics, he was vexed to find that the informant was still unwilling to speak to him. Only after pulling out his most questionable means of extracting information was the informant willing to provide something substantial. 

Patricia. 

It had been enough to stop Hubert temporarily, though he was now faced with a problem. Patricia was not any earth shattering revelation. There were many suspicions that she too had fallen to TWSITD. And in turn it would not be impossible for an Agarthan to possess this knowledge and understand the connection. He could write this off as an unsuccessful attempt at an infiltration and dispose of the agent. Emperor Edelgard did not need to spend time worrying about this information when it was likely worthless. 

Still. 

It was her _mother_. 

He was deeply conflicted. Part of his duty was to evaluate intelligence for accuracy and ensure it was appropriately handled by the correct level of governance. Only the most important fact-based information should land on the Emperor’s desk. However, this was personal. She trusted him, and she would want to hear this. 

He looked down upon the weakened informant, who, despite being powerless from his many restraints, had still managed to successfully in achieve his request to see the Emperor. Hubert grit his teeth into a frustrated snarl. 

He exited the tent to find Byleth waiting for him, and two of his guards had joined the ones stationed outside the tent. “Bring him to Enbarr. Highest security and discretion protocol,” he barked at them and immediately began to plan his departure. 

“Take care Hubert, please give Edelgard my regards. I’ll be continuing up through Faerghus as planned, and she’ll have my full reports on schedule.” 

“You as well. My apologies for disrupting your mission and leaving so abruptly,” he offered sincerely, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. 

She gave a nonchalant wave. “Not at all. This was important. Besides, Margrave Gautier isn’t expecting us for another couple of moons. We have time to conduct a thorough tour throughout the territories here. If anything else of this nature comes up I will immediately notify you.” 

“I appreciate it. Emperor Edelgard will certainly be glad to see you upon your return. Thank you once again Grand Marshal, I’ll be taking my leave now.”

* * *

It was well after midnight by the time he had arrived in Enbarr, prepared the interrogation room, put up the appropriate wards, and notified the Emperor. He stationed two fresh guards outside the doors, so that only Hubert and Edelgard were present when the informant finally spoke. 

“You wish to see Patricia?” he asked, almost politely, as if Emperor Edelgard were an old friend. 

“You are not asking questions here!” Hubert growled and caused a threatening mire to dance around the informant’s face, the murky tendrils snaking close to his nostrils and ears. 

Edelgard held up a hand to silence him and Hubert withdrew his spell slightly. 

“What do you know about Patricia?” she demanded with authority. 

“I know that she lives.” 

“Does she live as her own face? Or under one of your masks?” Hubert retorted. 

“She lives as she was. Though she is no longer the same.” The agent was eyeing the spell surrounding him as if mesmerized. The travel had not been easy on him. The stress of warping alongside the mages, while under heavy restraint and sedation had caused his condition to seemingly turn. 

“I will not tolerate riddles. You will answer our questions directly or you will die,” Edelgard commanded as she drew an ornate silver axe out in front of her, battle ready stance. 

“We will all die, I am no exception. But I will answer what I know. She lives beyond our reach, lost to time itself, in the realm that binds us all. I cannot know its name, for it is too pure for someone as lowly as me to speak of. But she lives, and she calls to you. The whispers of ancient Agartha beckon you to find the truth.” The informant’s breathing sounded shallow, like he were gasping for air. 

“You must have mistaken me for someone else if you think for even a second that I believe your nonsense.” Edelgard couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. Hubert internally cursed himself for having pulled her into this spectacle. He should have listened to his instincts. She was far too busy to deal with affairs of this nature, and he feared this had been for naught. 

The informant wheezed, and foamy blood fell from his lips. “I know you’re the queen of blood. You style yourself as the ruler of a united Fodlan, but you realize not that your enemies are closing in on all sides. The path you walked was for nothing, and is doomed to repeat itself. Find Patricia, and you will find the answers you need to set your path in a new direction,” he managed to choke out. 

“Do you have any other information? Perhaps something tangible? Useful?” Hubert asked with a sneer. 

“You must find a way… to get to Patricia, and find your salvation.” His shoulders shuddered with effort as he struggled to breathe and find his words. “Destroy the sys-system, the way you intended. The information is there, you just have to w-w-want to find it.” 

Hubert braced himself for an attack, a transformation. He had surely brought a would-be attacker right to the feet of the Emperor, utterly failing in his duties. However, the informant merely pitched forward against his bindings, dead.

They stood shoulder to shoulder in silence for a moment. Hubert held the wards up, as a precaution if he was not truly dead. “Your Majesty, I am truly sorry for this. I should not have bothered you with such nonsense.” He was deeply ashamed, this information had been next to worthless, and surely only sparked grief. 

“It’s no fault of your own, it sounded interesting enough outright. We can try to gleam what we can of it,” she responded in a calm tone of voice, though she was staring intently at the corpse. “It’s strange though isn’t it? He does not look like any Agarthan I’ve ever seen. Not even after death. He did not revert back to another face.” 

Hubert looked on with a frown. She was right, the man remained human-looking in appearance. He looked like a typical kingdom commoner, just as he appeared to Hubert in the tent when he first saw him. He was in retrospect quite young looking, likely no more than twenty years, and had the appearance of someone who performed hard manual labour for a living.

“This is all highly irregular, to say the least. Based on Grand Marshal Byleth’s report he was found in the Agarthan holdout. He was injured, but he did not make any effort to fight back, and merely surrendered,” Hubert responded, sounding suspicious. 

“I trust your instincts. There was reason to treat this as credible, even if the information was puzzling, to say the least. He also died quickly, as if he was only alive long enough to pass on this message. I want to know more about him, who he was. I don’t believe this man was Agarthan.” 

“Of course, I won’t sleep until the matter is settled,” Hubert promised. 

Edelgard looked slightly troubled. “I’d tell you to let it wait until morning, but I can’t say I’ll be able to find sleep anytime soon. This was… unsettling to say the least. I’ll need time to process this all.” 

“I’d also suggest that you don’t take his message to heart, or try not to at least. However I take matters of your security very seriously. I fear there is much work to do, I will be on the highest surveillance of any credible threats against you or the Empire. Agarthan or otherwise,” he promised, his deep voice rumbling with sincerity. 

“I know I’m in good hands. Ensure that any relevant information is collected and any physical trace is destroyed. I’m retiring for the time being, good night Hubert.” 

She swept out of the room with an inscrutable expression on her face. Hubert felt troubled by the events that had transpired, and silently vowed to get to the bottom of it, if only to remove this new worry from her shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

**1199 - Ethereal Moon**

**Franciscus**

He was out on his morning walk, time and route varied each day of course, to finally get around to restocking the pantry. The last bit of gold he had would have to carry them over, though he hoped an associate would reach out soon. As he finished his errands he encountered a small mercy. A poster that hadn't been there yesterday had been carefully placed on the town square bulletin board. A notice for the opera with a familiar icon, a small carefully placed lily drawn on the top right corner. 

He peered at it, feigning interest, while carefully scanning its content. 

Ah, there it was. 

Two words were underlined and exaggerated. 

_Come one, come all to see the Mystical Songstress!_

_A stunning vision in red as she performs on her_ _FINAL_ _tour._

 _This show is not to be missed, only in town for_ _THREE_ _days._

The provided dates were for the twelfth to fourteenth days of the current moon. Reading between the lines, the fourteenth would correspond to the meeting date, the 'final' day the opera was in town. 'Three' would correspond to the time, likely for three in the morning. They typically operated on a twenty four hour schedule in these messages. 

Good, this would help top up their funds. 

Final tour sounded slightly ominous, but it did not shock him. They were nearing Enbarr, and he knew he’d receive further instructions at the assigned meeting. 

Without a second glance he swept away. 

* * *

Franciscus awoke to a stabbing pain in his abdomen, so severe that his first thought was that a would-be assassin had finally caught track of him. He willed himself to stop from vocalizing aloud, lest it alert his daughter and notify the assailant of her presence. Best case scenario, they would leave his body and flee. 

Except, he realized with a groan as a second, deep pain struck him in the same location, he had not been stabbed. There was no assailant, no assassination attempt. Just one man and his failing body, making itself known. He coughed violently, feeling as if it was scraping roughly through his chest. He struggled to roll onto his side and light the lamp on his bedside. The matches fumbled in his hands and he cursed as they fell to the floor. Coughing again, he moved a hand to his mouth and when he pulled it away it was speckled with something dark. 

_Damn_. He thought he had more time. They needed more time. 

Suddenly there was a gentle pressure pushing down on his abdomen and he was blinded by a warm golden glow. He felt the warmth of a healer’s touch knitting, mending the angry wound that festered deep within him. As the glow went out and the hands holding him down released, he pulled himself up in bed. A pair of small shaking hands lit a match and ignited the small amount of oil remaining in the lamp. 

“I’m sorry, I know you said I’m not to do magic, but I could feel something was wrong. I felt it, it-it was like I could feel flames dancing in my chest. Then, I heard you and knew I had to try,” Eleonore rambled quickly, tears forming in her expressive eyes. 

He pulled her into his arms and soothed her hair with the hand not sullied with his blood. “It’s okay, my lady. Hush now, you did what you needed to do. I can’t be upset for you helping me. It was a fine bit of magic, restoration spells are far beyond mages with many more years of practice than you. I’m very proud of how far you’ve come.” 

She pulled back, looking deeply upset. “I-I couldn’t fully heal it. It was like there was a block, something prevented me from truly fixing it. I stopped the internal bleeding, for now, but father you must see a healer. A real physician.” 

He smiled sadly. “Oh my child, I did not want you to find out like this. Many have tried. It is not something that can be removed, but it can be managed. I didn’t expect it to flare-up this dramatically, but I daresay it’s stable now.” 

She looked confused. “What is it?” 

He sighed, “It is not so easily named, but I was born with it. A congenital defect, a mistake from development in the womb. It’s just a part of my make-up, but unfortunately it’s something I must live with, discomfort and all. I will be fine, some rest will serve me well.” 

She wore a skeptical frown but did not push the matter further. He gave her a warm smile. “Why don’t you get back to bed and try not to think about it any further. I need to go clean up.” 

“Okay, I’ll try. Rest well father.” She still looked suspicious, her eyes carefully appraising him. 

He sighed, and hoisted himself up. “Look, I know that was a lot to take in. You don’t have to worry about me, truly. That said, having a healer around would make life easier. I think we can try and fit in more faith magic practice, if you would like,” he offered, hoping it would appease her. 

Her face brightened slightly. “I’d like that,” she said with a small smile. 

“Good, then I work out the details in the morning. Sleep well child.” 

She exited the room, seemingly mollified by his last suggestion. His smile immediately vanished after she had left. The pain still lingered, though she had managed to curb the worst of it. He waited until he didn’t hear her moving any longer before making his way to the small bathing room. A wash basin stood in front of a grimy, cracked mirror. His eyes met his reflection in the mirror and cringed at the sight of blood smeared around his mouth. Sighing, he brought the cool water up to his face, letting it refresh his senses. 

She had believed him, which only increased his sense of urgency. If he was beginning to fall apart, it just reinforced that he needed to finish his work, or find an ally to take her and finish the work. 

There just wasn’t enough time, no matter how he calculated it. 

He debated for a brief moment actually following-up on his promise on letting her practice faith magic. If she could buy him more time, then maybe he could expedite his plans. But no, she was never supposed to be with him for this. He had to prepare her for her part, and that meant saying goodbye. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, arms bracing the edge of the wash basin so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He knew this day would come, and yet…. 

It felt too soon. 

He released his grip and looked up to the mirror once more. His hair had been entirely white hair for at least half a year by now, and it currently hung in front of his face as a disheveled curtain. Normally he kept the sides closely cropped and the longer hair on top slicked back. Even his facial hair, usually meticulously kept in a short shave close to his face, was growing out into a salt and pepper beard. Perhaps he had been neglecting his appearance, and if he was honest with himself he had to admit that he had been feeling tired earlier and earlier each day. 

_Damn_. 

* * *

As the pre-arranged meeting date arrived, he realized it held a new meaning for him. Franciscus carefully snuck out of his house to avoid alerting his daughter. Travelling between these meetings was truly the most crucial. For if he was careless and fell to an assailant, he would be leaving his daughter in a highly vulnerable position. Falling in public, such as during one of his meetings with the townspeople, or in a busy town square while going about his business, would provide witnesses. His associates would be able to act faster to secure her, and take her to safety. Under the cloak of darkness, time was not on his side and the safety of being in public did not apply. Therefore, he moved cautiously and without hesitation. 

Getting to the local playhouse fortunately posed no difficulty, and he waited, cloak pulled tightly around him and hood-drawn up, outside the side stage door. Training his ears, he heard a gentle knock pattern from within, too quiet to be heard by anyone not standing immediately beside it. In response, he used his cloak to shield his hand and repeated the knock back. It was a simple, but effective, password method. 

The door cracked open and he slipped into the dark hallway, following the glow of a magical beacon until he reached a guarded room. 

“I was wondering if you had forgotten about me,” he said with a smirk as he entered, pulling back his hood. 

At the centre of the windowless room stood the Mystical Songstress, and she greeted him with her usual coy smile. 

* * *

**1187 - Harpstring Moon**

**Minister of the Imperial Household Hubert von Vestra**

Hubert poured over the reports provided by his field agents and Byleth, trying to find any connections. This mystery had been nagging at him for several weeks now, and he was no closer to identifying the face of the kingdom man they had interrogated. There were no reports of missing men matching his description in the areas surrounding the location where he turned himself in. He had sent out some of his best field agents to go survey the area, and so far they had been unable to turn up anything promising. 

Emperor Edelgard had not pushed the issue on him, but he was determined to solve this mystery. He had taken it on as a personal mission, as he was prone to do. He wouldn’t call it an obsession, and his usual work had not suffered, but it was certainly something he couldn’t stand to leave unanswered. 

Hubert hated leaving things unanswered. 

Today he had a new approach. He had decided to call in someone else to join his investigation. As time went on he realized that he needed someone research minded to help with this mystery, and he had just the person in mind. However, Hubert strongly suspected they would have a dubious willingness to participate. 

A sharp knock at the door sounded. “Linhardt von Hevring to see you sir,” the guard at his office called. 

“Send him in,” Hubert responded, and Linhardt entered the office with a barely stifled groan. 

“What is it? What was so important that you had to pull me from my research? Do you know how much progress I’ve made since moving my office to Leicester? It’s a tragedy to leave it behind at this stage,” he whined, sounding bored and annoyed before even having heard Hubert’s request. 

“Have a seat please,” Hubert said simply, and gestured to the chair across from his desk. Linhardt threw himself down into it dramatically. 

“Well, you’ve dragged me all the way back to Enbarr. What is it?” Linhardt asked, letting his head rest heavily in his hand. 

“Do not fall asleep in here, I will only warn you once,” Hubert grumbled and Linhardt lifted his head with an aggrieved sigh. 

“Simply put, I need your assistance. There is a matter that has become something of a mystery. I could not include it in my summons, it is too much of a security risk for the channels coming in and out of Leicester I fear. We found an Agarthan, or someone claiming to be one, who was captured by Byleth’s forces and surrendered himself with the claim of having information. Further interrogation revealed that they only wanted to speak to the Emperor herself, claiming their information was about her late mother, Patricia. Also known as Anselma, one of the former Emperor’s consorts, amongst Adrestians. Once we returned him to the capital, the informant spoke in riddles, claiming that Patricia was lost to time,” Hubert explained seriously, and handed Linhardt a parchment that contained a transcript of the encounter with the informant. “Here, please read this.” 

Linhardt reviewed the writing with a half raised eyebrow. “Interesting, you brought an informant with useless information straight to Enbarr. Very promising I’m sure. And this has what to do with me exactly?” His voice dripped with poorly masked sarcasm. 

Hubert felt his jaw clench in frustration. “Having read the transcript, would your attitude change if I told you that the man never changed his face? He did not appear Agarthan, not in life or death. He was a simple kingdom man, however we cannot identify him. We think his information might have some merit, particularly because he speaks of ancient Agartha and its secrets. It may, at minimum, tie into your crest research, or at least prove beneficial in some way. I want you to start researching into any Agarthan technology or research as it pertains to time. We know that Byleth once possessed such a power, and that the Agarthans have carefully mirrored the former church’s activities.” 

Linhardt sighed again, looking resigned he leaned over in the chair, letting his long hair dangle onto Hubert’s desk. “I suppose I have no choice,” he said in a weary voice, “I can start looking through any collected information, though much of it has been combed as we were looking for anything specific to crests.” 

“Good, see to it. Start with your existing information and I will keep you apprised of any new leads we encounter,” Hubert said as Linhardt got up to leave. 

“Oh and Linhardt?” Linhardt paused in the doorway, fingers poised on the knob. “Do not relay any of this information to your father,” Hubert warned sternly. 

Linhardt laughed airily. “That will not be an issue, I assure you.” He pushed the door open and excused himself.

* * *

**Linhardt von Hevring**

Linhardt walked briskly through the halls. He did not want to hang around the palace long enough to chance a run-in with his father. The absolute last thing his now irritable mood needed was to run into his father and hear about the shame he had brought down onto his father’s house. The first Hevring in, well, ever, to reject his claim to a highly reputable noble house. 

_Oh well_. His father would simply have to live with that fact. Unfortunately for him, his father was having difficulty coping, which left Linhardt tip-toeing around the imperial palace to avoid his potential gaze and the subsequent dressing-down that would follow. 

The second he managed to escape the palace without being spotted, he warped away to safety. He reappeared outside a familiar doorstop and politely knocked on the door. “Caspar! Caspar are you home?” 

Only a moment passed before Caspar opened the door, face breaking out into a smile. “Oh hey Linhardt! I didn’t know you were in town!” 

Linhardt walked past him and flopped belly down on the shabby settee in the centre of the modest lodging Caspar called home. Caspar lived in Enbarr, but outside the palace by choice. He enjoyed the distance from the palace and the stuffiness of nobility outside of working hours. He was currently a commander of the guards, operating on a shift basis. 

Linhardt groaned loudly into a pillow.

“Aw buddy, what’s wrong?” 

“Everything,” Linhardt declared dramatically. He rolled onto his side, green hair falling into his face. 

“Well…. Did you want to tell me about it?” Caspar pulled up one of his mismatched kitchen chairs and took a seat. 

“Hubert has ruined my research. I have to go on a wild goose chase based on some nonsense intelligence from an Agarthan soldier.”

“Uh-huh, sounds annoying.” 

“It is very annoying! It’s also only a matter of time before my father hears that I was in Enbarr, and then I’ll have to listen to his complaining. Not to mention I can’t let him know what I’m working on, so that’ll surely keep him interested.” 

“Sounds complicated!” 

Linhardt suddenly felt jealous of Caspar. He was, by nature, a simpler man. He liked fighting, he liked being a soldier, and best of all he liked being a second son. His father didn’t care what Caspar did, which also didn’t seem to bother Caspar. But then, Linhardt felt an immediate pang of regret for thinking such a petty thing about his friend. Caspar always listened, even if he didn’t fully understand. And he certainly didn't judge Linhardt, or care about his renounced noble status. 

“It… It is, I suppose. But it’s okay, I’ll manage,” Linhardt said with a shrug, pulling himself back upright. 

“That’s the spirit! Besides, you’re the smartest person I know, and I know you’ll find a way to solve Hubert’s mystery.” 

Linhardt gave a small smile, “I suppose I will.” He adjusted himself on the settee and felt something digging into his back. Reaching around he pulled a locket out from the cushions. “Is this yours?” He offered it to Caspar.

Caspar looked panicked for a moment, and shot out a hand to grab the locket. In his haste, he miscalculated his reach and jostled the locket and a small portrait fell to the floor at Linhardt’s feet. As Linhardt picked it up, he caught a glimpse of a familiar pink head. 

“Caspar, you sly dog. I had no idea you were on speaking terms with the enemy,” Linhardt said with a laugh as he handed the picture over. 

Caspar snatched it so fast Linhardt was worried he would tear it. “I am NOT. And don’t say that so loud. It was a goodbye gift.” 

“Uh-huh, sure. Well your secret is safe with me,” Linhardt said with a grin. 

Caspar said nothing and placed the portrait back in its frame before pocketing it, his face glowing red. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I believe you,” Linhardt said apologetically. 

“Yeah, I know… It was just after Deirdru, we talked and basically acknowledged that we would, you know, never speak again. She gave it to me to remember her by, as a reminder of what might have happened if things had been different.” 

Linhardt felt sobered. He knew what that feeling was like. 

“Do you ever miss her?” Caspar asked glumly. 

“Who?” Linhardt feigned obliviousness, not wanting to discuss _those_ feelings.

“Well, you know. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine too,” Caspar said sincerely. 

Linhardt sighed. Caspar really was a good friend.

“I do, I do miss her. Every day,” he finally confessed.

* * *

**Minister of the Imperial Household Hubert Von Vestra**

“I’ve been thinking, I may send an envoy to Claude,” Edelgard said nonchalantly before sipping her tea. 

Hubert raised an eyebrow at her admission. He knew that she thought he hadn’t seen her slight smirk as she pressed the cup to her lips. 

“I am a touch surprised, though I can see the benefits of doing so. That said I am curious to hear your exact reasoning,” Hubert said as he prepared his cup of coffee.

She placed her cup back down and pushed it away. “Well, for starters I am still puzzled by that marriage offer from Almyra last moon. There are few scenarios I can think of where he didn’t have a hand in it. It was too simple of an offer, and they gave up so easily. Though we rejected his offer, I would have expected Claude to provide some follow-up. Something about it doesn’t sit right with me. I’d much prefer to go to the suspected source,” she carefully explained. 

“That would be a reasonable course of action. Shall I prepare a message?” 

“Yes, but let’s wait until Byleth’s next communication. She will be in Gautier territory and if we have to arrange a parley we can mobilize her across the sea to Edmund territory and have her stationed closest to Almyra. I’d like to hear her report to make sure there’s nothing more pressing at this time.” 

“Understood, my lady.” Hubert wondered to himself if he had the means to spread more of his agents around. They were stretched thin across Fódlan as it were. Monitoring Claude, which had already proven to be very problematic, would mean utilizing more resources. Resources he didn’t have.

“Are you prepared for the opera tonight?” she asked, changing the subject and shaking him out of his thoughts. 

“Of course. Dorothea will surely dazzle on stage. You know, she’s very pleased about this season’s performance.” 

“I daresay she is, though I did have to instruct her to redirect her focus away from my deeds. There is nothing more egotistical than watching oneself on stage. She understood, and only seemed a little bit put-out.” Edelgard closed her eyes and shook her head.

“As it were, I enjoyed the operas about your deeds,” he confessed with a grin. 

“Well, you can enjoy those ones for the both of us then,” she chuckled. Looking at her pocket watch, she sighed. “Well, that looks like it’s the end of our break. I have to get back to some urgent matters on policy reform. Count Hevring is irritable about some changes I’ve made. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Until then, Your Majesty.” Hubert watched her leave, marvelling in how she managed to fit so many items into her schedule. Not to mention, keeping enough space to socialize with him. 

* * *

For the second time that day, a Hevring graced Hubert’s office with their presence. “Minister Hevring,” Hubert greeted curtly, placing his quill down, having replaced his actual work with decoy notes when his guard announced the senior Hevring’s presence. 

“Minister Vestra,” the Count replied civilly. However his tone carried no warmth. The Count shared similarities with his son, physically they were very alike, and the Count also maintained the same air of lethargy as his son. However there were differences. The Count had sharp eyes that missed very little in a political landscape, and he maintained a strong interest in internal policy and had an aptitude for navigating complex affairs. Unlike his son, who only really served his passions, the Count was fiercely involved in his role in governance. His passions, whatever they were, had no place in the workplace.

“I understand that my son is in Enbarr, I take it that you did not summon him merely to have him fraternize with the Bergliez boy?” the Count asked smoothly. 

“I have no control over how your son spends his time, however you could ask him instead. I do have a considerable workload at the moment if you've only come to chat about your son’s whereabouts,” Hubert responded simply. 

The Count flickered his eyes down to Hubert’s decoy report and back up to meet his eyes. “I see. Though I would remind you that I am not only one of the most senior ministers serving the Emperor, I am the Minister of the Interior, and any and all matters affecting the Empire’s internal affairs, particularly those involving my wayward son, should be brought to my attention,” he explained coldly, as if condescending to a child that had misbehaved. 

“I cannot speak for your son, but if I’m not mistaken his affairs hardly affect your house these days,” Hubert responded sardonically. 

The Count’s upper lip twitched dangerously close to resembling a snarl. “Linhardt will one day see reason and reclaim his inheritance. Though I am not here to discuss those matters with the likes of you. Now, back to my request, what is he working on?” 

Hubert leaned forward, smiling cooly. “I should remind you, Minister Hevring, that I am the Minister of the Imperial Household, and I do not have to discuss such matters with you.” 

“So you are confirming that this is a household matter?” 

_Damn_. 

The smile slid from Hubert’s face. “I am telling you in no uncertain terms that it does not involve you or your ministry.” 

The Count gave a mirthless, breathy laugh. “Well, I suppose there’s no point in attempting to draw blood from a stone. It is a shame that you do not act more like your late father. He was much more willing to collaborate. Though, we had the fact in common that we had to suffer the disappointment of having sons who steadfastly refused to uphold family names.” 

He spun on his heel and swiftly exited the office, not allowing Hubert the chance to respond. 

Hubert was left fuming. How dare he? He had practically flaunted his role in the Insurrection of the Seven. Hubert had never trusted him, he didn’t trust anyone who participated in the Insurrection. The only reason Hevring was still in his position and not a rotting head on a spike was because Emperor Edelgard allowed him the opportunity to serve under her, provided that he denounced his actions and pledged his allegiance. It had been against Hubert’s advice; despite Hevring meeting Edelgard's demands, Hubert could see that he continued to have a lack of remorse for his actions. Edelgard’s rationale was that it would be too difficult to replace someone of his caliber at such a vulnerable time, and they needed his support in the war efforts and for the foreseeable future. She wasn’t wrong, but Hubert had resolved to keep a close watch on him. 

It seemed like that would have to continue. Hubert leaned back in his chair, letting his head roll backwards as he anxiously ran a hand through his hair. 

* * *

**Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg**

“How does that feel, Your Majesty?” one of her ladies-in-waiting asked as she fastened the back of Edelgard’s evening gown. It was a vision in gold, an elegant princess style dress that flared out dramatically.

“Quite fine, thank you.” A sash was carefully placed over her head, and what felt like dozens of hands soon followed, poking and prodding it into place. She looked across the room to where Hubert was dutifully waiting, wearing his own formalwear. He did not meet her eye, as he was watching the ladies work, critically following their every move. With a sigh she turned back to the mirror. She suspected a tailcoat was far simpler to put on, and felt envious of menswear yet again. Suddenly the hands were off her. Hubert made his way into the mirror’s reflection and her ladies-in-waiting backed away immediately, deferring to his seniority. They handled the mundane task of dressing her, but the minister of household provided the finishing touches. 

“May I, Your Majesty?” he murmured from beside her ear as he crouched just behind her at her shoulder to view her reflection at her eye level. 

“Of course,” Edelgard said with a small smile.

His touch was gentle as he made minor adjustments to her sash and fluffed out the front of her dress. He smoothly beckoned to one of the ladies and she walked forward with her formal crown, carried atop a silk cushion. He inspected it, carefully rolling it in front of his discerning eyes, before placing it atop her head, straightening it into place. It was saved for occasions such as this, being seen in public, outside of court or the battlefield. It was a delicate design, with a feathered motif and a ruby inlay along the edge. Though it was heavier than it appeared, due to its solid gold construction, she instinctively raised her head to wear it proudly. 

Hubert gave a small smile and she turned to smile back at him.

“Marvelous my lady, as always. If there is nothing further you require here, your carriage awaits downstairs.” 

She led the way out of her dressing room, while he trailed several steps behind her. Her ladies bowed as she passed and she thanked each of them upon her departure. True to his word, the royal carriage stood out front with four of the finest white stallions harnessed in pairs. Their manes and tails were immaculately groomed and their golden breast plates were adorned with the imperial insignia. Hubert held out his hand to help guide her inside before elegantly sliding in beside her. 

“Well, it certainly is nice to have an excuse to take an evening off to attend the opera. Thank you for accompanying me tonight,” Edelgard said as she looked out the window, hands carefully folded in her lap. 

“It is my pleasure. You certainly deserve an evening free of responsibilities.” 

She gave a short laugh. “Perhaps one day. A free evening at this point in my rule just means more work for another evening, though I will accept these short reprieves. Speaking of, how have you been managing?” 

Hubert’s face cast the impression that he was fiercely debating whether to lie or tell the truth, but when he met her expectant gaze he resigned himself to the truth. “My workload has been heavy. It is manageable but there are many dead ends, which means balancing the allocation of resources. Though I have pulled in the help of other colleagues.”

“Oh, well I’m glad that you have some help. Who have you recruited?” she asked inquisitively. 

“Linhardt von Hevring,” he admitted after a brief pause. 

She looked at him curiously, it was an interesting choice. Given Linhardt was working on one of the most high profile and top secret projects of her state. “I’m curious, have you called him in to specifically look into that certain incident?” 

“I have. I know that you have placed a high priority on his current work, but I do believe there is something here, and I certainly wonder if there’s a connection,” he dropped his voice to a murmur. 

She considered this carefully, wondering about the implications. “Well, as always, I trust your judgment. Keep me informed if anything changes. Anything at all.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty. I should also inform you that I anticipate that I will be spending increased time in the field.” 

“I understand but do be careful. A household needs its minister, and so does this emperor. I encourage you to reach out to other allies for manpower, should you need it,” Edelgard said, encouragingly. She really did not intend for Hubert to take this on entirely on his own. 

The carriage rolled to a gentle stop in front of the opera. Ferdinand’s soldiers were providing crowd control and they dutifully kept the crowds at bay. A considerable number of citizens had gathered outside the entrance, many more than would be seated in the opera house. Edelgard was flattered, but also embarrassed, by her apparent celebrity. She waved warmly as she exited the carriage despite Hubert briskly ushering her inside. 

They made their way to the Emperor’s box without issue, and once seated Hubert turned to her. 

“Might I add, Your Majesty, that you look absolutely beautiful tonight,” he whispered, before turning back to face the stage without another word. 

Well, she thought as a blush creeped up her face, it appeared that she was not the only one who enjoyed getting a rise out of the other. She watched him for a moment, his face was carrying the usual impassive mask that he wore in public, but then suddenly sunk into a frown. 

“Your Majesty, discreetly look at the third row, fifth and sixth seats,” he muttered, barely audible and keeping his eyes trained on the stage. 

She did not immediately look where he instructed, to avoid any suspicion, but when she slowly rolled her gaze over to where he directed, she widened her eyes despite herself. There, out in the open, was Count Hevring seated beside their Almyran delegate from the previous moon, Fareed Amin. 

* * *

**Linhardt von Hevring**

Being back at his laboratory put him at ease. As much as Hubert’s latest request had been an irritant, he had to give some credit to him for arranging to have his lab moved to Gloucester territory. A large benefit was that it was far, far away from Hevring territory. But beyond that, there were other notable benefits. It was close to the border to former Ordelia territory, which put it in a valuable position to be close to some of the largest former Agarthan holdouts in Hrym territory, but far enough away to put a cautious amount of space between them. It was also close to where Lorenz had taken up residence, newly wedded to Lysithea. Linhardt worked closely with the both of them, notably because he was working on researching the removal of Lysithea’s crest, but also because they offered a certain level of protection by being close. Lorenz and Lysithea had both proven their allegiance and trustworthiness during Edelgard’s war, but Count Gloucester had not, despite his pro-empire posturing. Lorenz provided a buffer between Count Gloucester’s prying eyes, and Lysithea provided a buffer between the unrest in former Ordelia territory, which still maintained a certain level of confidence in the Ordelia name. Ordelia territory had been absorbed into Gloucester when Lysithea disinherited her titles. But having a marital home on the border had been a clever idea, as it maintained a level of control and surveillance on all fronts. Technically while all of Fódlan was considered part of the empire, some old nobles had maintained their lands and status. Count Gloucester had been loyal enough during the war to keep his lands, but Linhardt knew that Edelgard intended for Lorenz and Lysithea to take over, as soon as was reasonable. 

For the task at hand, the first step would be to go back over all confiscated Agarthan research to see if there was anything pertaining to time. If not, Linhardt would have to mobilize and enter the field. Lorenz and Lysithea could help with that, and between the three of them they would have to look for old libraries or repositories of any information that might help them. Unfortunately, Agarthans were highly suspicious people and rarely kept their research in one location. They had already tracked down some valuable documents, between the forbidden texts from Garreg Mach and those in Shambhala and other high profile hold-outs, but there were many smaller test locations that were just only being uncovered. Linhardt knew Hubert’s agents had a large hand in revealing the hidden locations. However, he also knew they were pulled everywhere at once which made for slow progress. Linhardt relied heavily on their discoveries so he realized the necessity of patience. 

As tired as he was, he felt the familiar lure of his passion for research drawing him into his new task. Reviewing documents was tedious for some but it piqued his interest and could keep him engaged for hours. He settled in at his desk, and determined that he might as well get a head start this evening.

He lost track of time as he reviewed his materials. As he had suspected, most of the text he reviewed did not contain anything noteworthy that he hadn’t already pulled out. He looked at his pocket watch and was aghast at the hour. Leaning back in his chair, Linhardt rubbed his hands over his face. It was probably time to retire, he had stopped making meaningful progress. He was about to snuff out his lamp when a leaf of parchment caught his eye. It was oddly folded, and sticking out of the ‘unread’ stack at a strange angle. Linhardt never stored his materials in such a careless way. He frowned at the thought of an original document being potentially damaged. Linhardt carefully grabbed it from the pile and unfolded it; his frown deepened.

It was not a document, it was a map. The date was illegible but he suspected it was older in origin based on its appearance and the old Fódlan boundaries. The most peculiar feature were the markings it bore. They did not correspond to any cities in Fódlan, however they did include the likes of Shambhala and other known Agarthan holdouts. But, as he looked closer, he realized many marks did not correspond to anything he knew. His eyes widened. This map contained the locations of undiscovered premises, presumably Agarthan in nature.

But he had never seen this document before now. He was certain he would remember such a valuable resource. Frowning, Linhardt laid it out. Sleep would certainly evade him for the remainder of the night, as long as this mystery was unfolding before him.

* * *

**Claude von Riegan - King of Almyra**

“Alright Macuil, are you willing to talk now?” Claude lightly stepped off his wyvern, claiming the Sword of Begalta as his prize. He looked it over appraisingly before pointing it in the direction of the defeated dragon, its eyes beginning to close with fatigue. 

“I have nothing to say to you, scum of Riegan,” the dragon growled, his voice rumbling the ground beneath Claude’s boots. 

“Huh, well that’s unfortunate. I came all this way to beat some dusty old dragon, and for what? To have my lineage insulted, tsk,” Claude said, feigning insult. 

“If you’ve just come to mock me, then I suggest you leave. I am weary of this nonsense. Take your prize and get out.” 

“Can you at least tell me more of your family? Or, how about Nemesis? I’m the one trying to set things right in the world and I would really appreciate any help I can get.” He moved closer, ignoring his wyvern’s warning cries behind him. 

“Ha! You arrogant young fool, there is no helping this world. The disease has long since taken hold of this land, with every passing day the sickness spreads. Agarthan, Nabatean, Human… It matters not who succeeds. There is nothing left of value to inherit,” Macuil grumbled. 

“Now you’re talking! I’d love to hear more, tell me a story, Macuil. Please? Humour me, I know you don’t believe that there’s anything for us in this fragile land, but I have aspirations beyond Fódlan.” 

“Heh… Well, that’s your business. As for me, I was once as arrogant as you. I am a disgraced saint. I was born, I was worshipped, I slaughtered many, and I died. I have no mortal form left. My existence is as meaningless as this conversation. If it’s answers that you seek I suggest you go speak to the living.” He nodded his great head towards the distant mountain range. 

Claude could just make out the haze of smoke in the night’s sky. 

“Claude, watch out!” a girlish cry came from above. Hilda flew into range, Freikugel lighting the night sky as she got into a defensive stance, attempting to distract the great dragon. Claude leapt backwards, just narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of Macuil lunging for him. His wyvern screeched and bolted forwards, allowing Claude to gracefully mount her saddle. 

Macuil made no second attempt to attack, instead erupting into vicious laughter. Claude watched as his beastly form dissolved into a funnel cloud of sand, blasting them with a gale force so strong that the wyverns struggled to maintain control. After only seconds, it was over and Macuil was gone. 

“Damn,” Claude spat bitterly. 

“That was close Claude!” Hilda shouted accusingly. 

“I know, I know. But it wasn’t for nothing, exactly.” Claude pointed in the direction Macuil had hinted. “That’s where we’re headed next. I think we have one last shot at finding answers.” 

Sreng was a cold desert. Much unlike the warmer desert climate Claude was accustomed to in Almyra. It was also practically the end of the known boundary of the landmass. Not many people lived on the edge of the inhospitable mountain range. 

Certainly not any humans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note about my name/date system, I decided to only include the current date for the section the first time it occurs. Any subsequent character sections take place during the last used date. 
> 
> Anyways I hope you're enjoying reading so far!


End file.
